


Tit for Tat

by Raikishi



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: I Don't Even Know, M/M, Pining, Public Nudity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-06
Updated: 2015-04-06
Packaged: 2018-03-21 11:46:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3691086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raikishi/pseuds/Raikishi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“We see each other naked too often!” Steve calls out.</p><p>    “Tit for tat. Just make sure it’s even!” Tony calls back flippantly, “‘S what Bruce suggests.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tit for Tat

    Tony streaks by naked, hands over his chest as he tracks water puddles through the room. Steve nearly drops his popcorn as he stares, unable to think. 

    “Forget that happened!” Tony calls behind him, “Forgot my towel!”

    Natasha clears her throat from her spot on the couch and Steve flushes, making his way back and dropping the bowl in her lap. He blinks stupidly at the trio grinning at him. 

    “Did I ever tell you about the time in fifth grade when Stevie had a crush on Betty,” Bucky begins, smirking at him. It’s small but still there and Steve can’t bring himself to be too irritated.

    “Remember that time you threw up on Peggy?” he retorts and Bucky kicks him. Well, nudges him gently with his foot as if he’s unsure that he can.  

    “I’d like to hear both those,” Sam says, raising his hand.

* * *

  
    Steve jumps at the crowing sound Tony makes halfway through the video before he realizes what they’re watching. 

    “Oh no,” he says as he watches himself undress, all quick efficient movements to cover up the embarrassment he remembers keenly.

    “Oh yes,” Tony says, gleefully. 

    “Where did you even get this?” 

    “I work for the government,” Tony says cheerfully, swatting Rhodey’s knee when he snorts.

    “Apparently they’d get a lot more outta you if they ply you with softcore porn,” Rhodey remarks dryly.

    “Nothing about that is soft,” Natasha points out, sniping a chip at Bucky when he mumbles about not wanting to see this.

    On screen Steve makes a slow turn as the doctor makes brief notes. Steve groans when he realizes that the nurse standing by the sideline is blatantly ogling him.

    “She has the perfect job,” Pepper says wistfully.

    “Hey!” Tony protests.

* * *

  
    “Tony get out!” Steve absolutely does not squeal when Tony barges into his room.

    He does throw the nearest object at Tony’s head, purposefully missing because it’s meant to be a warning more than anything else.

    Unsurprisingly, Tony’s not undeterred. Instead, he lets a low impressed whistle as he ducks the sneaker. 

    “Wow that video did not do you justice.”

    Steve curses violently under his breath, grabbing for his shield and holding it in front of him when it becomes clear Tony’s not moving.

    “What,” Steve grits out when Tony finally lifts his eyes, a smirk on his face.

    “Sorry,” he says, clearly not sorry at all, “If it helps I can –”

    “No,” Steve says, voice high as he slaps a hand over his eyes when Tony goes for his belt, “Just. Just tell me what you want.”

    “I need your shield actually,” Tony says, looking increasingly more amused by the circumstances but at least he’s stopped trying to undress. 

    That’s not happening. Steve’s needs his shield more than ever. He refuses to let his eyes flick down to where Tony’s still fingering his belt. Natasha’s right to make fun of his life.

    “And this couldn’t wait because…”

    “Genius waits for –”

    “If you tell me that phase again I’m going to have to throw your off the roof.

    “That’s just rude.”

    “Natasha’s rule.”

    “I thought she used up all her chances to add to the Tower Rules.”

    “She bought one off Clint. I didn’t ask how.”

    Tony raises an eyebrow, lips twitching in amusement and Steve leans over his shield to shove him.

    “I’ll bring you the shield later,” Steve says when it becomes clear Tony’s not going anywhere.

    Tony’s eyes flick downwards, appraising. The look he flashes up at Steve is openly flirtatious. Then again, he always looks at least slightly flirtatious. Steve hates his life a little more because he’s memorizing that look for future reference and Natasha may be right to call him a sad little man.

    “Gonna ‘wax’ your shield first?” Tony asks and cackles, ducking out of the way of the sneaker that flies his way.

    “We see each other naked too often!” Steve calls out.

    “Tit for tat. Just make sure it’s even!” Tony calls back flippantly, “‘S what Bruce suggests.”

* * *

  
    Three weeks later Steve walks into a wall when he stumbles in on Tony and Bruce making bacon in their boxers.

    “Why are you not wearing pants?” Steve asks, raising an eyebrow at the pair standing over a sizzling pan.

    “Why do you not do dishes?” Tony shoots back, throwing a pair of purple pants over his shoulder and Steve resolutely refuses to flush.

    He flicks his eyes towards Bruce but the scientist only shrugs, clicking chopsticks at him. Chopsticks he’s using to flip the bacon. No help there clearly. 

    Steve sighs and sets down the measuring cup he had been eating cereal out in order to open up the dishwasher. 

    “Wow, you wear surly teenager way too well,” Tony drawls over a shutter click. 

    Steve scowls at him, making the extra effort to keep his eyes from dropping down to Tony’s boxers. Tony’s Captain America boxers. Tony’s Captain America boxers that he’s wearing without a lick of shame. Steve snaps his eyes away when he realizes that if he stares hard enough he can make out an outline.

    When he looks up Tony is thankfully in the middle of tapping something out on his phone. So there’s only Bruce to give him that obnoxious all-knowing smirk. Steve briefly wonders if he can get away with sticking Bruce’s clays pots in the dishwasher in revenge.

    “So am I getting an explanation to the nudity in return?” Steve asks, over the noise the dishwasher lets out when it starts. 

    Tony frowns at it for a minute. Steve resigns himself to tripping over Tony at 3 AM sometime this week. 

    “We’re not nude. We’re not even half nude. We’re a quarter nude at best,” Tony says, tugging at the front of his shirt. He also gives a little wiggle of his hips before grinning up at Steve, unrepentant, “Hey, this makes up for the whole walking in on your naked thing right?”

    “No,” Steve scowls. He was naked and Tony is very obviously – he has to bite down on his tongue hard to keep from making the complaint.

    “Maybe he’d complain less if you were nude,” Bruce mumbles, clearly reading his mind. He flashes Steve another smirk as he transfers the bacon off his pan. 

    Steve scowls at him, snatching up a piece. If he’s going to be mocked, he might as well be fed. 

    Thankfully, Tony doesn’t seem to hear, plowing onward, “And we were testing pants. Where’d you think we were for a week?”

    “We have a silent rule not to ask,” Steve says, ignoring the suggestive look Bruce is throwing him. Thankfully, Bruce has slipped out of Tony’s line of sight, looping around to get to the fridge.

    Steve sometimes misses being stared at in awed silence.

    Tony rolls his eyes, “Please, I got the kinky sex out of my system a while ago. There’s even a sex tape to prove it.”

    “Sex _tapes_ ,” Bruce corrects as he disappears behind a fridge door.

    Steve resolutely does not think about how Bruce knows that.

    “Semantics,” Tony waves off the idea and then holds out the pants at Steve, “Here wipe your hands and grab.”

    Steve obliges, fingers hooking in the waistband, holding firm as Tony starts backing up. He makes it to the other end of the counter before he’s scrambling slightly, struggling to stay on his feet. 

    “Eyes up top sailor,” Bruce says as he rounds the counter in order to perch on a stool.

    “I wasn’t!” Steve protests in a quiet hiss.

    And he really wasn’t. 

    He is now.

    Tony squirms a little more, trying to pull the pants further and Steve immediately forces his eyes upwards, cheeks hot. Because yes, that is definitely an outline of –. 

    He lets go of the pants before he can think, brain short circuiting. He can barely hear Tony’s yelp and subsequent complaints over Bruce’s laughter. 

* * *

      
    Steve does _not_ google Tony’s sex tapes. 

    He googles one of them. 

    And he does not do it on purpose. 

    Alright, he kind of does. But it’s the principle of the matter. 

    Tit for tat is very clear in –

    Steve despairs for his future in hell as he watches the video buffer, leg jumping nervously. 

    The scene opens up on plush carpet floors, camera lifting to linger briefly on someone’s cock. The camera person reaches forward, stroking lightly for a moment and Steve shudders at the hot zing of want when he hears Tony laugh, soft and breathy. 

    The camera pans upwards, roving over a very familiar chest with significantly less scar tissue, lingering briefly on a fresh hickey before lighting on Tony’s face. 

    His lips are red and shiny with spit. Steve shivers as he watches Tony run his tongue carefully over his bottom lip. His hair’s damp, hanging low over his eyes and it takes a moment before Tony seems to register that the camera’s on him.

    He quirks a smirk, eyebrow raising in a challenge.

    “Can’t be afraid to follow through,” he tells the camera person, obviously picking up on a previous conversation.

    The person behind the camera chuckles, voice deep. Probably a man. 

    Steve swallows hard, heart rabbiting as his imagination runs away with him a little. It was probably just in reference to a little harmless flirt –

    Steve chokes on his tongue, slapping the laptop down and pushing it aside. He takes a deep breath, abusing Sam’s breathing techniques for a moment as he tried to pull himself back under control.

    The camera had started another slow crawl over to the left. Steve had been caught on Tony’s smirk, Tony’s strong arms and his overall everything so he’d noticed until –

    He makes a sound in the pillow like a dying whale. 

    That had been – that had been a lot of toys. 

    He grunts, surprising himself a little as he reached down to cup himself through his pants.  He lets out a quiet whimper as an image pops into his mind unbidden, of Tony whining as he pressed the vibrator to his –

    Steve chokes, barely coherent as he flips his laptop open again because he has to see, has to –

    God, he was never going to unsee this.

* * *

      
    It’s shockingly easy to act natural around a man when you’ve seen his sex tape.

    Of course, “natural” is often interchangeable with “smitten puppy” as Natasha likes to tell him. He can feel all of them silently judging him over the lips of their coffee cups in the morning. Well, except Thor, who is everyone’s favorite for a reason.

    “Captain, if I may redirect your attention from Iron Man’s admittedly admirable ass–”

    “Just give me the coordinates,” Steve snaps. 

    Thor is no longer his favorite. The demigod barks out a laugh as he flash fries the snail Steve had been struggling against so that Steve can break away to where Clint’s beating off another with his bow. He grimaces when he notices Clint’s quiver melting in what he mentally refers to as snail goop.

    Steve slams his shield into snail’s side and has to shudder when it swivels an eyestalk at him. Of course there were giant snails in Williamsburg; of course some bioengineering post-doc had decided giant snails were simply too good to pass up. Steve barely manages to put distance between them before Iron Man side swipes him flying into a thankfully empty warehouse.

    “Go after him Cap,” Natasha tells him, leaping from a fence she had scaled. The snail in front of him shudders when she zaps it.

    “We can handle clean up,” she says, sounding amused.

    Clint makes an obnoxious face at him and Steve’s no longer sympathetic about his melted arrows. He breaks off from the group, ducking under Hulk’s lunge for the remaining two snails and jogs over to the warehouse where Iron Man’s plucking at scarves and jewelry. 

    “I’m fine!” Tony assures him, struggling with a necklace made up of doll eyes.

    Steve grimaces, grabbing for a gauntlet and quickly dropping it when it sparks at him. It takes him a moment to remember that Tony had been swallowed at some point in the fight and he makes a face at the viscous slime dripping from the suit.

    “We need to get that off.”

    “I think I’m good,” Tony tells him, a bite in his voice and Steve blinks stupidly at that.

    Tony’s anything but _shy._

    “Tony, that giant snail swallowed you. The other things it swallowed are now broken and melting into goo.”

     _“‘Goo,’”_ Tony mutters like the word’s offense to him.

    “And right before melting, they were covered in that slime. That same stuff that’s on the suit. Therefore, I need you _out_ of the suit.”

    Iron Man slumps over a little before straightening, clearly ready to start arguing his case.

    Steve is quick to cut him off before he starts, “I’ve told you about that time I got my head slammed against the dumpster for fifteen minutes because of a stupid argument, right? We both know I’m not budging.”

    Iron Man mutters something uncomplimentary about Steve’s mother that he magnanimously ignores in favor of reaching for Tony’s gauntlets. The releases make a quiet hiss when they open up and Steve makes short work of the gauntlets and helmet. Tony’s tight-lipped but he drops the look immediately when the helmet comes off. He smiles at Steve, too tight on his face.

    “Thor and Hulk are dealing with the stragglers. Nat and Clint are dealing with the civilians. They’ll be _fine,_ Tony,” Steve assures him and Tony only looks more resigned.

    Apparently that wasn’t what Tony had been worried about. 

    “Deep breath,” Steve instructs, struggling with the dented chest plate. 

    Tony complies but still winces when it comes off in two parts. And Tony – Tony’s not wearing anything underneath.

    Steve stares blatantly for a moment before flicking his eyes up to see Tony frowning at the wall to the left of Steve’s head, clearly uncomfortable.

    “No undersuit?” Steve asks dumbly, tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth.

    “I was in the shower,” Tony explains. 

    “I guess we’re even?” Steve offers, relief flooding his body when Tony chuckles.

    It quickly dies away when Steve’s eyes flick to the scar mass in the center of Tony’s chest. Tony’s hands twitch, makes an abortive move to cover up and Steve drags his eyes away hurriedly.

    “Well,” Steve drawls, aiming at nonchalance, “I didn’t expect you to be shy.”

    Tony rolls his eyes, hand dropping a little. 

    “The two sex tapes say otherwise,” he says primly.

    Steve snorts, swatting Tony’s hands away lightly. He tries not to feel too pleased when Tony relents, lets him sweep a hand over Tony’s chest, cataloging bruises. Tony’s warm under Steve’s palm, chest slick with sweat. He’s well built and well tanned; Steve marvels at the contrast between them for a moment. Steve’s seen Tony walking around in tight tank tops, has let his eyes roam over the chiseled torso when it had been covered. Steve drags his hand absently down a pectoral, thumb dragging along the edge of a scar when he hears Tony suck in a sharp breath. He freezes, his entire body tensing up as he glances up at Tony. 

    “Taking liberties there, Cap,” Tony says, raising an eyebrow at him and Steve tries desperately not to flush.

    “Inhale,” he says instead, as if he’s checking for broken ribs and Tony does so without grimacing. Steve has to believe that’s good enough, making a note to check up on Tony later on to make absolutely sure he’s not hiding injuries. Again. 

    His hands drop to Tony’s hips, marvel at how his hands fit for a moment before he realizes what he’s thinking. Quickly he fumbles at the plates, prying them apart with ease and revealing a generous amount of thigh. 

    “Cap, you’re doing neither of us any favors by going slow,” Tony snaps, hands dropping to help with the other leg.

    Between the two, they get him naked in a matter of seconds and Steve’s mind does not file that information away to be revisited later. 

    Tony blinks at him when they’re done. He looks uncomfortable for a quarter of a second before he smothers it. He folds his arms over his chest and neither of them comment on how his shoulders hunch too as if he’s trying to pretend that the scars aren’t there. 

    Steve comes to a parade rest in reaction, brings his arms around back to keep himself from reaching out and doing something stupid. Like pressing Tony against a wall and forcing him still so he can drag his tongue through the scar tissue just to prove that there’s nothing to hide. 

    “I’m going to need pants,” Tony demands. 

    Steve does _not_ tell him that that would be a shame. He also definitely does not make mental adjustments to certain sketches he already has tucked under his mattress as he hurries off to find pants.

* * *

  
    “Aw Stevie,” Bucky coos at him, throwing a bar of soap at his head.

    Steve bites back the thanks because there was no other way he would have taken his eyes off Tony’s retreating back otherwise. 

    Instead, he turns a glower on his friend but is unable to keep it up because Bucky’s in a rare mood. He’s been at ease every since they had finished rounding up the snails. Steve chalks it up to a combination of therapy sessions and adrenaline but doesn’t bother examining it too closely, electing to simply enjoy the moment.

    “Locker room code,” Clint remarks strolling by, “You’re technically not suppose to look.”

    Or not enjoy it.

    “I wasn’t!” Steve protests, blaming the red of his cheeks on the heat.

    He yelps, jumping in the air when Bucky reaches over to fiddle with the tap.

    “I think cold shower’s more helpful,” Bucky says cheerfully. 

    “I hope your arm rusts,” Steve mutters.

    “Your boy toy made sure it wouldn’t,” Bucky hums, whistling under the spray of SHIELD’s showers. 

* * *

  
    “Of course,” Steve mutters a month later when he runs into Tony in some supervillain’s ridiculously decorated hideout. 

    Tony raises an eyebrow at him.

    “Of course you’re naked,” Steve explains and Tony gives him a slow once over, “Yes, I realize I’m naked too.”

    “You don’t look happy about this,” Tony remarks, arms folded over his chest. He looks amused instead of uncomfortable this time. 

    “Can’t imagine why,” Steve sighs, “Do you think the others have been stripped as well?”

    “‘S what I would do. Have you seen the number of weapons Widow and Hawkeye can hide away in their clothes?”

    Steve clenches his jaw as he makes his way down the hallway. There are no alarms yet so neither he nor Tony have drawn anyone’s attention –

    He grimaces at the blaring siren going off in his ear, ducking into an alcove and dragging Tony behind him when the building rocks with the force of an explosion.

    “Your handiwork?” Steve asks and Tony lets out a strangled noise, stumbling away from him the second he lets go.

    “Obviously,” Tony says, hurrying off.

    Steve stares blankly at him for a moment before he realizes the reason behind the hurry and has to stand still for a moment in order to catch a breath. 

    Well, that does change things a little.

    Steve doesn’t even feel the slightest bit guilty for punching a guard in the face when he interrupts the moment. Natasha has to snap at him to stop grinning when in the thick of it.

* * *

      
    They make a pact not to compare size and shape and then decide to drink to the victory. 

    “Make me something fruity,” Natasha demands, perching precariously on a bar stool.

    “Double that!” Clint calls from the pool table where he and Bucky are apparently having a duel to the death judging by their glowers. 

    Sam’s grinning into his phone as he hovers nearby, recording and running commentary. 

    “Your wish my command,” Tony says, cutting a bow and Steve snickers, a little giddy from the Asgardian wine he’d pilfered from Thor earlier.

    Tony makes a perfect pour and Natasha tucks a five dollar bill in his belt before making off with the two drinks.

    “Cheap!” Tony calls after her and turns to grin at Steve, “And what can I get you Cap?”

    “You,” Steve says, taking his chance.

    Tony laughs, swatting at his arm and looking delighted, “Are you drunk? Did Thor succeed?” 

    “‘M not drunk,” Steve insists, “‘M ‘buzzed’”

    Tony snorts, “Of course you are.” 

    Steve grins at the indulgent warmth in Tony’s voice, leaning in closer. He grabs at Tony’s waistcoat, playing with the cut of it and tracing the curve of his hips.

    “So what’s equal to seeing you with a semi?” he hears himself ask just as Tony takes a sip from his own drink.

    It’s a perfect spit take. Steve stumbles over his stool in order to avoid it.

    “You’re cleaning that up!” Natasha calls over the room.

    “Yes, mom!” Tony shouts back, before slumping over the bar, face pink.

    “You’re blushing,” Steve marvels, bringing his hand up to touch.

    Tony makes another bitten off noise, “You’re killing me Cap.”

    Steve hums, leaning over the bar to stroke a thumb over Tony’s cheek bone, moving down to his bottom lip. Tony all but whimpers in his touch.

    “Show you mine?” Steve offers and Tony makes a sound too delicious for Steve to pass up. He leans in, presses his lips against Tony’s, humming a little because they’re just as soft as he had imagined.

    “Oh my god you’re drunk,” Tony hisses, pulling back and Steve huffs.

    “I’m really not,” he says quietly, leaning in again. He makes a soft noise of protest when Tony stumbles back, eyes wide. Steve catches him by the wrist, thumb pressed against Tony’s pulse which is racing, hummingbird quick, “I didn’t have that much.”

    Tony squints at him, suspicious and Steve smiles softly.

    “Needed a little liquid courage,” Steve confesses and he leans in, licking his lips.

    He can’t help the flush of pleasure when he sees Tony track the movement. 

    “Are you going to kiss me?” Steve asks, smirking, “Tit for tat.”

    “Oh my god,” Tony mutters, rolling his eyes but he sounds affectionate. 

    Steve makes a happy noise when Tony presses in, mouth parting immediately. He lets Tony lick into his mouth before taking over, chasing after something fruity. He loops an arm around the back of Tony’s neck, intent on licking the taste from his mouth.

    Steve grunts when he’s beaned by something hard. 

    “Get a room!” Clint shouts at him, holding up another ball threateningly.

    “Good idea,” Steve says and lifts Tony easily over the bar.

    “Christ, you are dangerous,” Tony mutters a little breathlessly. 

    “I think I owe you two,” Steve says as they trip over each other trying to move down the hall.

    “What?” Tony manages dumbly and Steve grins. Clearly Natasha had been wrong when she’d mocked his kissing abilities. 

    “I may have found your sex tape.”

    “Jesus fuck.”

    “Make it up to you,” Steve promises, mouthing at Tony’s neck and taking his hand. Tony groans as Steve presses Tony’s hand against his groin, rocking a little.

    “I’m sure we can work something out,” Tony says, sounding strained. 

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on tumblr: rai-kishi.tumblr.com


End file.
